


The Morning Commute

by Wombat_of_Midgar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: #Gladio troll, #introverted Ignis, #those silly heavies, M/M, Noctis' depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wombat_of_Midgar/pseuds/Wombat_of_Midgar
Summary: A new change of living arrangements causes Ignis Scientia to share a morning commute with his Co-Worker, Gladio Amicitia. Consequently, Ignis begins harmlessly studying him. Luckily, Mr. Amicitia is aware that he has no ill wishes. Told threw the perspective of Ignis. (fairly raw- no beta)





	The Morning Commute

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings apply. Just shyness and people watching. :) Pure fluff. A bit of warm up getting into character as young Ignis. This story will not be attached to any other verses I make. This is a one shot. Lot s of thanks to Moon_Raccoon_exe for encouraging me.

             

              At 5:00 He was awake, in uniform and taking his morning commute on the tube.  Squeezing in a few precious minutes to read some fiction and drink his coffee- no sugar, just milk. Nothing special or particular, whatever was available at the station. Some mornings it was just an energy drink. No particular brand, as long as it was sugar free.  He knew he threatened to sabotage his strict diet with his ‘cup noodle’ ramen addiction, not to mention is utter lack of respect for the importance of a good breakfast. So drinking too many empty calories was apparently out of the question. How little Gladiolus Amicitia actually cared about providing his own body with proper nutrition never ceased to amaze me.

                None the less, his dedication to being a shield was so pure and admirable; I could not fault him for much else. He even helped me study the combative arts and despite our styles varying so much, (myself favoring the style of rogue daggers, he Heavy weapons) Amicitia never failed to deliver. He pushed me to my limits and made me work hard but was always fair and patient. In court his manners were fantastic and he was always early.  In all, Amicitia was well rounded and respectable.

                Mr. Amicitia was also tasked to be the prince’s personal trainer and arms instructor. His knowledge was sound and though he himself chose to neglect his own dieting advice he never provided young Noctis with any misinformation.  He was an excellent coach and provided the prince with supportive physicality and encouragement that I know- is not my specialty.  I like to think of myself as the gentler hand- teaching him the values of study and observation. I spend more time with him, as his advisor in waiting. There for a bit more finesse and compassion is required to prevent overwhelming, his young majesty with my presence.

                I do not lie to myself though. I take pleasure, in the little things I do for Noctis. The things that make Mr. Amicitia shake his head and say, ‘you spoil him too much’. I try not to take it too personal. If he spent as much time with him as I did he would understand.  Noctis deserves to be happy and he is not, he has lost more in a few young years than anyone should ever. The dear thing is all alone and I am not his mother but perhaps, I can be a friend. It is a tireless task however, so rare and precious when my efforts are reward with a smile or even a contented sigh.  It was no fault of his own though, Noctis suffers an illness. No one chooses to stay away, silent in his room surrounded by piles of his own garbage.  Seeing him like that hurt more than anything he could ever say to me, because I remember when he was a happy boy.

                At 5:00, Noctis and his mental state were typically the only two things on my mind as I took my morning commute. Until we moved into the provided apartments and I began taking the tube.  That was around the time that I began studying Mr. Amicitia. ‘Studying’, I say because it was hardly voyeurism watching a man buy coffee in quiet.  I saw nothing wrong with what I was doing.  Truth be told It was more accidental, than anything anyway. I always meant to sit beside him. Maybe strike up some conversation. Work would be a safe topic maybe the weather.  Maybe I could convince him to even start eating breakfast after a few chats. Perhaps we could even laugh about it. But it never happened. My mouth felt wired shut whenever I was granted an opening.

                Soon enough, weeks passed by. We shared a carriage often but he never even looked once in my direction. I resigned myself to my quiet study of the shield instead. The scenarios of potential interaction seeming to glide away with other meaningless daydreams that danced through the morning fog. 

                I assumed he’d rather not be disturbed.  ‘Whatever he was reading must be very compelling.’ I thought often.  One day I decided to subtly glance over the cover. _‘Courting rogues’_ In shock and continued to read, ' _a heavy weight’s guide to the feathered-weight class’ complex affections.’_ On que, as if it could not have been staged better, the idiot turns his Mohawk-head in my direction and gives me the corniest wink. I felt my face turn red, both angry and embarrassed.  I stood up and headed to the very back of the carriage.

                To my dismay, he closed the book and began to follow me. His handsome face struck with worry. I didn’t want to look at his face, but I did. I always did and for nearly two weeks I had been subconsciously stalking the poor man.  I must say at least he had a good sense of humor about the whole situation.  Though teasing me about being, perhaps attracted to him with his, silly homemade, ‘Courting Rogues’ book cover. That was unnecessarily cruel.   

                Yet I had no defense for myself when he took a seat next to me. I blatantly turned my head away from him. Just when I thought my embarrassment couldn’t get any worse- he began to laugh. Full and heartily, my stomach flipped and my temper continued to rise. Sharp words flew from my mouth without control, “That was clever for a meat-headed ‘Heavy’ I will give you that.”

                He continued to laugh irritatingly, “And- you’re not very subtle for a ‘deft handed’ rogue.”  His voice rumbled with bass, gods it was beautiful and made me even angrier.  Then he had the audacity to try to hug me, I writhe away from him and inched closer to the window. To my surprise though, he looked hurt. “I’m sorry Iggy.” He shrugged, “I thought it would be a funny way to ask you out-“

                It took me a moment to process that- there were so many emotions I was not accustom to swimming through my head. I wasn’t sure if I should dignify him with the chance, I was still bitter. So I stared at him in silence awkwardly.  He sighed deeply and scratched the shaved sides of his head. I could hear the coarseness of his hair. “I just thought you must be interested if you’re staring at me so much- Its ok if you’re not though.” He fidgets in the seat. It creaked as his weight shifts away from me.” I’ll leave you alone. Sorry-“  As he stood up, I lost my self-restraint and reached out and to take his wrist. He stood still and quiet as I found my words- “Coffee- real coffee- not that Newsstand swill. After work….”

               He grinned down at me, “My shift ends at 18:00.” The train stopped. I bit my bottom lip and felt a sheepish smile form on my face, “I-know,”

                                                                             

               

               

                 


End file.
